


Cappuccino Art

by meandminniemcg



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Actually that's why the rating is Mature, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Barista Draco Malfoy, Desi Harry Potter, M/M, NSFW Cappuccino art, customer harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 08:29:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16384712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meandminniemcg/pseuds/meandminniemcg
Summary: Draco wants Harry to never come to the coffee shop where he is working again. But Harry interprets his attempts to make it creepy as a way of flirting.





	Cappuccino Art

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to Snortinglaughter, Tsundanire and OTPshipper98 for their conversation on DrarryDiscord that gave me the idea to this fic and to originalobjecttheorist for beta reading my fic. You rock!
> 
>    
> I hope you people like what I made of it and don't mind that I didn't write actual sex (I'm pants at writing sex, no pun intended)

When I noticed the messy head of hair in the open doorway obviously waiting for one of his friends, I tried to sneak to the back room. But as I had expected, Pansy gave me a stern look and said: “No, Draco, you stay here and serve coffee. You can’t run away from every good-looking bloke you see.”

“Good-looking? Are you kidding? His hair looks like a bird’s nest, and all he and his red-headed friends wear are hand-me-downs. He looks like a charity case.”

“That’s why you checked out his biceps last week when he came here in short sleeves.”

“Pansy, for the last time, I hate guys who are here on sports scholarships. You know what Smith did to me.” I couldn’t believe that Pansy wanted to expose me to flirting charity cases. If she weren’t my oldest friend and almost like a sister to me, I would never talk to the bint again.

“Draco, nobody says you should hop into bed with him. But you are working here. You want to prove to your father that you can stand on your own feet. Working implies serving customers, whether you like their hair or not, you give them coffee and get money for it. Come on, you’ll make the coffee, then you have less to do with them.”

The bloke and his two friends, one of the male red-heads and the nerdy girl with the Afro hairstyle, stood at the counter now. And I wish I didn’t remember the bloke’s name: Harry. He looks Desi, and if I think of his clothes, I think his parents must be cleaners or something like that. It isn’t one of my best sides that I’m thinking of this, my friend Blaise is from Angola, and I know how many prejudices he has to face every day, but the off-putting thing about Harry is not that he looks Desi, but his complete disinterest in his looks. Someone with a nice brown skin and radiant green eyes should make the best of their appearance that their financial means allow. Wear their own clothes size for example. You could do that even with charity clothes.

Harry dresses like a charity case and walks into the café every time as if he owned the place. He winks at me as if he expects me to fawn over him just because he has that fucking sports scholarship.

Again, he stares at me until I look back, then he smiles and winks. The wanker! Hmm, I get an idea … wanker … maybe he needs a hint that it’s time to fuck off from our coffee shop. First, I make the girl’s coffee, with a cappuccino art flower on it, then Redheads with a leaf, and now, my masterpiece called “Fuck you:” His medium cappuccino with caramel syrup has a fat dick on it, spurting lots of come. With an evil grin I call out his name “Harry!” and hand him my masterpiece making sure he looks at it.

I can’t believe it! The prat chuckles and says: “Whoa, that proposal is the most direct one I’ve ever gotten. I think we’d better go on an ordinary date first.” Then he winks at me with a crooked smile and prances to the table where his friends sit.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Pansy whispers in a tone that doesn’t conceal that she would rather yell at me. “If the bloke was not that attracted to you, he might file a lawsuit for sexual harassment. If your father had that poor customer service, you people would be piss poor.”

“Pansy, you know my father better than that. He has perfect customer service for the right sort of customers, and for piss poor customers his service is piss poor, too.” I tell her in a condescending tone.

“And we both know that you want to have a better character than your father. That in those things your mother is your role model.” She tells me.

I glare at her, but there is no need to answer, a large group of customers has just come in, and we have to get on with our work.  


If I ever go to work without my watch, Messy-hair-Harry could be the perfect time signal. Exactly by 12:15, he is here again. So, he didn’t get the message right. He must be really dense. Today, Blaise is working with me, and the prat had to pick new syrup bottles from the storeroom now of all times.

Harry (I should call him Hairy, the way his hair is all over the place) is wearing one of his stupid lacrosse outfits, the only things he ever wears that are his size. He is number seven, Potter is written on it. Today, two redheads are accompanying him, the same as yesterday, Ron (actually, I just notice he and the nerd girl are almost always around him. But today she isn’t) and the female redhead. Ginny. Wait, the blonde hippie girl with the dreamy expression on her face belongs to the group, too. She holds hands with Ginny.

As usual, he lets his entourage order their coffees first, Ginny’s girlfriend’s name is Luna. When she orders it feels odd, she has so much resemblance to me, she could be a cousin of mine I don’t know of. What may sound far-fetched to you is not even unlikely in our family. For some reason, I draw a moon beside her name. She looks at my name tag, smiles and says “Thanks, Draco.”

When it’s Harry’s turn and he orders his asinine cappuccino with caramel syrup, I look into his eyes, (fuck, they are green as emeralds) and make sure he watches my hand as I write “Arsehole” on his cup. This time he should get the message.

Except that he doesn’t. The wanker really chuckles. Mark my words, he chuckles! Then he moves his face closer to me and says with his warm baritone voice: “Yours? Mine? Want us to switch? You could persuade me to any of these options. But I’m not the hook-up type. I demand proper dating before we fuck.” By now Blaise hands him his cappuccino, and he winks at me. “See you tomorrow, honey.”

Then he prances off with that arse of his.

“What the fuck was that? Pansy warned me that you get really obnoxious around one customer, but what the fuck? Have you gone crazy?” Blaise gives me a look that reveals he doesn’t know whether to be annoyed about my disregard for my job or watch me like I'm some freak on a reality show, his usual approach to any drama unfolding around him.

I already suspect that as my customized cappuccino art and rude words on the cup won’t keep him away, I need to have a new idea. But what? Perhaps something disgusting. I wish it didn’t have to come to this, it might cost me my job, but actually, the worst case would be asking my father for money again until I have found a new job. Then I’d just prove my point later… Shit happens.  


Indeed, the next day, Harry is there again, wearing his lacrosse clothes again and prancing in as if I had nothing better to do than to fawn over him. This time he is alone, carrying his lacrosse helmet and a laptop bag. “Hi, Draco. I’d like a cappuccino with caramel syrup and an Italian bagel. What are you going to paint on my cappuccino this time? Wait – don’t tell me, I’ll just go for the surprise.”

The Nerve! Well, he has it coming if he acts like that. I make sure Blaise doesn’t see what I’m doing and sneak a packeted condom under Harry’s bagel. I’ll get sacked, but at least Harry will stop disturbing me this time.

I bring Harry his bagel to his place where he has unpacked his laptop. With a smirk, I refill the sugar packets and watch him pick it from the plate and notice the condom. He stares at it for a moment and – laughs. A full belly laugh shakes him, and fuck, I should hate the sound of it. 

Then he gets up, approaches me, puts his warm hand on my arm and tells me in a soft voice: “It’s flattering how much you think of sex around me, but if you want me we must have a date first. You know what? I’ll wait for you until you finish for today. Then if you have time we have our first date immediately, and if you don’t we at least make an appointment.”

My brain short-circuits, and all I can do is stand there and stare at him. When I can move again, I start doing my job like a robot, functioning but my mind is far away. Blaise tries to talk to me, but he could as well talk to the wall. Memories flood my brain, Smith haunts me. I mechanically finish my shift, pick my bag at the back and get an idea. I leave through the back door and send Blaise a message that I went home.

I take the bus to Pansy and Milly and beg Pansy to swap her shift with me. I even promise her a day’s salary for swapping for the near future, but I don’t tell her I want Harry not to see me again, the bint would only say no. She is eager to hear news about me having a boyfriend, while I only want to have peace and quiet. Being the son of Lucius Malfoy and being gay is a difficult combination. I’d rather not have another bloke threaten to tell the press about my sexual preference if I don’t give him money.  


The next two weeks I have my peace and quiet, except for the fact that I have to run at top speed after Professor Snape’s lecture on biodegradable polymers. Then it’s the 24th of May, Blaise’s birthday. Blaise, Greg, Pansy, Milly, Daphne and Astoria pick me after work, and we walk to Lakshmi’s Phoenix, an Indian restaurant three blocks from the coffee shop. I never took Blaise for someone who eats curry, he usually is rather keen on eating Sushi, or Pizza, but maybe it’s his way of wooing Daphne.

I know, that the Lakshmi’s Phoenix on Phoenix street is one of the best addresses for Indian food in our city. We arrive early, and it’s still empty except for us. Where I sit, I have a view of the bar. A European-looking long-haired man with a tattoo peeking out of his shirt is the bartender. He shouts something into the kitchen, then, when he gets an answer, barks a loud laugh. He starts mixing cocktails, although I can’t see anybody who might have ordered them.

A waitress, roughly my age, dressed in a red and gold sari brings them cocktails. “Six Sangrias and for Draco an Amour a Mosa. These cocktails are on the house.”

“Excuse me, I’m not the birthday boy. It’s Blaise’s birthday.” I point at him.

“I know, perhaps you should read the note that comes with it. Someone asked Sirius to make exactly this cocktail for you.” She grins smugly and distributes the menus.

I first read the menu and decide to order vegetable pakora and palak paneer with roti, then I take a look at the note.

> Dear Draco,  
>  Please, forgive me for frightening you. Blaise told me you had a bad experience with your first boyfriend, (I didn’t ask further, it’s not his secret but yours.) I would like to get to know you as a person, not just as the barista with the mischievous smirk and the creative mind (maybe it will harm my cause, on the other hand, I think you deserve the truth, your look when you handed me that coffee got under my skin, and I think you are aware that that coffee didn’t put me off, quite the opposite.)
> 
> I’m quite attracted to you, and that time when you saw me changing from my rainsoaked shirt to my lacrosse outfit in the loo, I interpreted your reaction as attraction. Forgive me if I was wrong.
> 
> I promise not to bother you and on occasions when my friends and I go to your coffee shop to behave like you are just a random person if you want me to. But in case if there is a chance you could imagine getting to know me, here is a voucher for a dinner with me here at the Lakshmi’s Phoenix on Saturday. If you want to meet me but the day is inconvenient, talk to Sirius, the bartender.
> 
> Harry

I hear my heart beat in my throat. This letter is – different. Harry promises to respect my decision no matter what I decide. But can that be? A warmth spreads in my body at the thought, but my brain doubts it. I hear my father’s voice on my mind: _“Don’t trust people if you want to be on top of the food chain.”_ Aunt Bella: _“Poor little lamb, she really trusted me. That’s what foolish people do.”_ Smith: _“You think I’m fucking you because I care about you? I get to shag you, and you pay for me to keep your secret. Why would anyone care about you?”_

I can’t sit here any longer. I tell Blaise I have a headache and go.  


As I want to cross the street, a hand holds me back. The next moment a bus goes by. I look at the person who held me back. It’s Sirius. “What do you want from me?” I snap.

“Just making sure you are safe. Your mom may not miss me in the family, but she would miss you. And Ha…” He stops in the middle of the word.

“Why do you talk about my mother?” People usually talk a lot about my father but hardly ever about my mother; after all he is a politician and she is a housewife.

“My name is Sirius Black. Estranged son of Orion Black. Your mother used to have a picture of uncle Cygnus, your grandfather, my father, your mother and me. I hold a bunch of wildflowers, and she looks scared. There was an ant on one of the flowers.” He explains, and I know the picture.

“That boy was you? Mother never talked about you, she only looked sad when I asked.” I take a closer look at him. He has a slight resemblance with aunt Bella, but a friendly expression in his face.

“I understand that being estranged will not make it easy for you to trust me. I just want to make sure you take a taxi and get home safely. I’ll pay for it.” I have no idea why but I want to know his side of the family history.

“Wait. Can we talk? I want to know a few things from your point of view.” I don’t know why, but I feel comfortable talking to Sirius.

He takes his mobile and makes a call. “Moons, baby, can you and Harry cope without me for now… I’ll have a talk with my first cousin once removed… Yes, Draco is Cissa’s son… I love you, too.” He smiles at me. “They manage, no extravagant cocktails for today, just the basics, but it’s fine.” We go into a pub across the street, get a pint and sit down at a corner.

“Is Moons your wife?” I ask.

“Moony, or Remus is my husband and the reason why I’m not welcome at family meetings.”

Sirius looks at me curiously, trying to see how I react.

“Maybe you’ll understand me, I’m gay.” I blurt out.

Sirius chuckles. “Welcome to the black sheep club. There are more of us than you think. Your aunt Andi, who married a rock guitarist and your cousin Tonks who is nonbinary live here in town, but there are more of us in other parts of the country.”

He tells me about Andi and Tonks, then about himself and Remus, who is usually a PSHE teacher, but can help at the restaurant, he earned his studies as a waiter and barkeeper.

“You seem to know Harry? Is he a relative of Remus’” I ask when we sit down at a pub.

“No, when I ran away from home at 16, after my mother had found a book about a boy’s coming out in my room and locked me up in the dark cellar for two weeks forbidding my brother to talk to me, it was his grandparents who fostered me from then on. James, Harry’s father was my best friend. The Lakshmi’s Phoenix was the Potdar’s restaurant then. I’m Harry’s godfather. James and his parents had no problem with me being gay.”

“Mother knows that I’m gay, but Father doesn’t. She accepts me as I am.” I tell him.

He smiles as if I had handed him a present. “Cissa was never as bad as the rest of them. There might be hope for her. Fleamont and Euphemia Potdar had founded the Lakshmi’s Phoenix, and Harry’s father was my best friend. But when Harry was small, both his grandparents and parents were murdered. Only Harry survived; and the police arrested me, because I was there and didn’t eat from the poisoned food. They never asked if I had a motive and why I didn’t eat it, it was due to a seafood allergy. I was in prison for 12 years. Then, the police solved another case and found out that the same racists that committed the other crime were the real murderers of the Potdar’s. Moony ran the restaurant, but alone he just managed to survive. He only started to work as a teacher after my release. All these years, Harry grew up in his aunt’s house. They changed his last name from Potdar to Potter, abused him, and made him wear hand-me-downs.” Sirius sighs.

“Is that why he always wears those awful things?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them already.

“Yes, unfortunately. As soon as I was free, I contacted him and tried to get custody of him, but it didn’t happen for a long time, only at 17 years, close to 18, he was allowed to stay with me for longer than a week at a time. They made him believe that he doesn’t deserve good clothes. I don’t tend to use violence, but I still feel like beating Mr. Dumbledore from the youth welfare office whenever I think of it.” A tear ran down Sirius’s face. I gave him a handkerchief. Maybe Harry wasn't such an odd person but a bloke who had a shitty childhood.

“He felt quite contrite about misreading your intention. He really likes you.” Sirius took a swig from his glass.

“Maybe - maybe I should give him a chance and get to know him. And maybe I should take him with me next time I go clothes shopping.” I say pensively. 

“You just want to see him shirtless again.” Sirius teases, and I can’t hold back my laugh.

I don’t even know why I manage to trust Sirius, but I do. I feel more at home around him than around most of my relatives. 

“But I think, I don’t want to date him immediately, I’d rather get to know him with more people around.” I word my thoughts.

“How about this: You come to the restaurant on Saturday, get to know him better and at the same time meet Tonks and their son, Teddy. Perhaps even Andi if she has time. And if you have a friend or two whom you trust enough, you bring them along. Only tell us how many people you invite, because on Saturday the Lakshmi’s Phoenix is closed for anyone else.” He gives me his mobile number.  


On Saturday, I come to the Lakshmi’s Phoenix with Pansy, Blaise and Greg. The group that is assembled at the restaurant is larger than I thought. I recognize the girl with the Afro, her redhead boyfriend, the twin redheads, the redheaded girl and Luna, then there is one boy in a cardigan whose name is Neville. Blaise sits down next to him, he knows him from Uni, they both study biology. Even the redhead siblings’ parents are there.

A woman comes in, and I don’t need to ask, I know that she is Aunt Andi, she resembles Aunt Bella in everything genetic, but while Aunt Bella looks frightening, Aunt Andi looks kind and has a beautiful sense of humor. 

At the table, I sit between Tonks and Harry. Tonks has short bubblegum pink hair, and tells me they wanted to be a parent, that Teddy has actually three parents, them, their fiancée Sarah and Remus.

Harry is very careful around me, as not to say anything wrong. But I like all he says and does, and also I like watching him interact with the others. As the evening ends, I ask him if he would like to walk me home. 

Everyone but Sirius, Remus and he have left already, interestingly, Blaise left with Neville. 

Sirius and Remus hug me goodbye and tell me that I can always eat here for free, I am family. 

As we walk down the street, I take Harry’s hand. He stops and gives me a surprised look. 

I tell him: “Now that I know who you are and you even introduced me to the most important people in your life, I feel it safe to like you. I would very much like to date you.”

He smiles, squeezes my hand and asks me: “May I kiss you?”

“You may do even more with me if you want.”


End file.
